Mother is God

It took her back to the first time she fell in love. When she talked to him, she looked into his eyes deeper than usual. And longer than necessary. After they talked, she looked at him go till he was completely out of sight. She had no idea what was going on in his mind. But she knew that she could somehow influence him to feel the same way that she was feeling right now.

That did not really matter to her now. In this way, it was different from unrequited love. She just wanted to hold his hand. Maybe even kiss him.

She knew that there was someone else, who loved her deeply. And she was supposed to love him back. Though there weren't any bitter feelings towards Mr. Love, she wasn't exactly craving for him at the moment. He had just faded in importance, and this other guy had started appearing more significant. Why not? He was wacky, well-read, demonstrative in his affections, and sensitive. Not to mention on the cuter side of the male species. They spent one-third of their day together. Discussing everything under the sun. It was what people would call "living in each other's pockets". They also could uncannily read each other's mind. Hence it was difficult to judge whether he knew about her feelings or not.

She knew that this attraction could not really blossom into a full-fledged relationship. Even if one were open to the fact that for that to happen, two relationships would have to be wrecked. He would have to go through the fourth break-up of his life, and that too just when he had seemingly found the right girl. And she would have to break-up with one of the most patient, adorable, sincere lovers of the world, for the simple reason that she had found someone else.

So you see, she wasn't really trying to take this forward. But she had no qualms in admitting to herself that she thoroughly enjoyed this feeling and that she wasn't in the least trying to supress her feelings.

She felt all the things lacking in her own relationship were being fulfilled by this one relationship here. The cliche 'couldn't resist his charms' never rang truer than now. She had no intention to resist anyone's charms! Though he wasn't exactly trying to charm her, she did feel good in his company. His boyish smile was more than enough to make her swoon!

She knew that Mr. Love did all he could, always. Of course, she found Mr. Love more perfect, she found that she felt safer with him, she felt secure with him. But Mr. Crush? He made her feel charmed, entertained. He made her laugh and held her like a delicate princess. It really sounded like a misty fairy-tale. But she could see through the mist - the fact that she certainly could not imagine herself in a serious relationship with him, tolerating all his weaknesses.

If love were all about stars in your eyes, music in your ears and charm and chemistry, Mr.Crush won hands down. If love were all about holding hands through thick and thin, accepting each other's weaknesses, then she had succeeded with Mr. Love. All this analysis was fine. But why can't Mr. Love and Mr. Crush be one person, she couldn't help wondering.

Her mind went over the various people who she, along with others, had gossipped about endlessly. People who were and still are, very close to her. Two-timing, cheating, betrayal- these were all condemnations of behaviours she had witnessed and that had broken relationships. She understood now that there is no such thing as 'betrayal' or 'cheating'. Love and attraction are not war games or strategies. They are simply personal choices made to make one feel good.

In any area of success concentration is essential. Geniuses are commonly believed to excel other men in their power of sustained attention. “Genius is one per cent inspiration and ninetynine per cent perspiration”, said Edison. “Genius”, said Helvetius, “is nothing but a continued attention”. “Genius”, said Buffon, “is only protracted patience”. “In the exact sciences at least”, said Cuvier, “it is the patience of a sound intellect when invincible, which truly constitutes genius.” And Chesterfield also observed that “the power of applying an attention, steady and undissipated, to a single object, is the sure

mark of a superior genius.”

The common denominator in the spectacular success stories of great men is their remarkable power of concentration. For example, in his biography of Bertrand Russell, “The Passionate Sceptic”, Alan Wood, referring to Russell’s extraordinary gift for concentration says: “He would sit writing page after page, turning page after page neatly

face downwards as  he finished them; he never minded children playing around him while he worked; and, once a guest in Cornwall, watching fascinated, saw that Russell did not even notice a wasp circling his head.” Concentration was the motto of Andrew Carnegie: “Concentration is my motto—first honesty, then industry, then concentration.”